Through all of it, he’s been there. Not loudly. Not possessively. Just there.
“You’re insufferable,” I say without heat, because it’s quite the opposite.
He lifts his glass. “No, I’m consistent.”
In this moment, I realize he might be the only person who has consistently witnessed every adult version of me. The wide-eyed law student. The ambitious junior associate. The exhausted grind of day-to-day practice. The woman in a parking garage learning she made partner. Now., a nearly-forty-year old career lawyer.
I take a sip of wine to quell the lump in my throat.
He watches me over the rim of his glass. Not invasive.
Aware.
Talk moves to our parents. Mine still bitter and angry since their divorce. Convinced the other one ruined civilization. Neither one afraid to share these opinions with me at every opportunity. His are still married. Steady. The kind of happy every couple aspires to be.
“My parents taught me not to trust marriage.” I scrunch up the napkin in my lap.
He turns his glass slowly in his hand. “Mine taught me not to settle, they’re still like teenage sweethearts. It’s cute.”
I quirk an eyebrow. He shrugs.
Dessert arrives. He picks up his fork. “Change of subject. Have you booked Prague?”
It isn’tactuallya question.
“Not yet.” I scoop a bite of cheesecake. “I did look at flights, though.”
“Don’t.”
I glance up. “Excuse me?”
“My jet is a better way to go.” He proclaims. “You should fly over with me.”
I set my fork down. Fold my hands loosely in front of me. Fix him with my most pointed gaze. “I’m perfectly fine flying commercial.”
“You won’t, though.”
I tilt my head. “You’re eerily confident.”
“I’m being practical.” He meets my eyes, doesn’t blink. “Besides, why wouldn’t you want to hang out with me instead?”
There it is.
“You enjoy pushing me.” I rest my chin on my palm.
He drums his fingers annoyingly. “I enjoy watching you pretend you don’t appreciate nice gestures.”
“I don’t care for spectacle.”
“It’s transportation.”
“It’syourtransportation.”
His mouth curves.
The memory hits without warning.
The last night of law school. My apartment half-packed to move back to Seattle. Me lying naked on my mattress, which was still on the floor because the bed frame was dismantled.
